The Intimate, Erotic Love of God

exploding old notions of the divine with poet Ally Ang

What if your connection to God wasn’t marked by shame, but rather by a powerful connection to creativity and eroticism? What would that look like? When I saw the above tweet by poet Ally Ang, I knew I had to hear more. (Note: Ang uses they/them pronouns.)

The first time I met Ally, they read, “Owed to My Father’s Accent”—a poem which both gave me goosebumps and made me laugh out loud. Ang, a gaysian poet and editor based in Seattle, exudes a mischievous sort of joy, from their blue hair to their irrepressible smile. Even when their work addresses topics like racism or pandemic grief, there seems to be an undercurrent of hope—a staunch refusal to give into pessimism.

Speaking publicly about spirituality is new territory for Ang. “I think of myself as a pretty intellectual person,” they said when we sat down for a recent interview. “I think that sometimes it feels like you can't be taken seriously, intellectually, if you are spiritual or religious, or if you talk about God...embracing my spirituality and talking about it more has been a newer thing from that I've been getting more comfortable with.”

Talking about it may be new, but spirituality is a topic Ang has been exploring most of their life; a journey that has taken them through many churches and flavors of Christianity, and from Unitarianism to atheism, and now to a more personalized sort of spirituality. They credit their parents for letting them explore, “I'm very grateful that my parents were supportive of that. I don't think they were always eager to go to church with me when I wanted,” they laughed. “[but] I've always been thinking about spirituality or actively practicing a certain spirituality.”

This curiosity, along with a budding awareness of their queerness, led them to an “atheist phase,” which they credit with giving them the space to figure themself out. “What do I stand for? Not what the priests or pastors or the Bible tell me that I should stand for. What really are my values, and what will make my time on earth meaningful, knowing that there might not be anything after it? …And I think that [phase] was really good for me to help define what's really important to me.”

Queerness was never an obstacle to faith for Ang. They went through puberty at a Unitarian Church which was led by a lesbian pastor. The sex-positive, pro-bodily autonomy sex education has left them with an enviable lack of baggage. Their poetry is boldly sensual; naked and unashamed.

Which brings me to the question I’ve been dying to ask—what about that tweet? How does one experience God’s love in ways that are intimate and erotic?

Ang admits they are still figuring things out. But as they have sought new ways to connect with God, such as connecting with their ancestors and setting up a personal altar, they’ve felt God’s closeness. “I feel very reverent towards that which I call God, but I also feel like God is reverent towards me. It goes both ways, you know. I feel like God is my friend. Eroticism and creativity also feel very intertwined with spirituality and with God for me. So when I'm writing poetry, that is a form of worship. It is celebrating and exploring the divine and the mundane; it's all intertwined, and then the erotic and sex, I think, is also a way of communing with the divine.”

As Ang spoke, I found myself comparing their spiritual practices and outcomes with the Evangelical beliefs of my youth. (The Evangelical judge in my head often feels inescapable.) What’s remarkable is that most Evangelicals would likely castigate the way Ang achieves their relationship to the divine while advocating a similar vision of what our relationships should look like—God as friend, God present in sex, work as worship. Many forms of Christianity try to achieve these means through control and shame; Ang found God by experimentation and by tuning into themself—what feels good? What feels authentic? Instead of ignoring desire, follow it.

But following desire is not carte blanche to harm others. “Justice is my guiding value at this point,” Ang said. “I’m doing my best not to harm people, and not to perpetuate harms that are systematic. [Justice means] fighting for the rights and freedom of marginalized people. And I don't think you need religion to do that. I think you just need to have empathy, and not want to see people be harmed or discarded.”

Ang’s views on justice have been heavily influenced by the writing of abolitionist Mariame Kaba. Ang’s poetry is a shining example of one of Kaba’s most famous quotes, “hope is a discipline.”

There’s something really compelling about Ang’s vision of spirituality. Writers chase that flow state where the words seem to be coming through rather than from us. As we spoke, I could see the parallels between God, making art, and making love: the state of presence required, the creative action, an admiring gaze that can elevate the quotidian. Art and spirituality, at their best, challenge us to look at the people and things around us with fresh eyes. For me, such a spirituality feels more aspirational than real, but I’m grateful to Ally for sharing their vision of God with all of us.

Ally Ang’s debut poetry collection, Let the Moon Wobble, is now available for pre-order. You can follow Ang on Twitter and Instagram and find more work on their website.

*Quotes have been lightly edited for clarity and length.

Journal/Discussion Questions:

• Read Ang’s poem, Invocation. What line(s) speak most to you?

• What’s your reaction to the quote, “hope is a discipline”? Do you find it hard to be hopeful? Why/why not?

• Take two minutes to pay close attention to something mundane today. What do you notice?